It's mostly free-form and amateurishly written, but I finished it last night.

Your intelligence is enthralling.
A mind that is crisp, keen, a collage of your edition of slideshows, your personal time machine.
Your fondness for the stage, your pivotal mission to please an audience is admiring.
When the curtains retract and unveil your favorite canvas or when the cameras roll and you’re cued into position, you vivify a character the best of your ability. Your patent speech, motion, your fluent fingers.
You venture place to place while you wear arcanum for your daily cloak.
Pellucid and serene is what I hear when the lyrics you speak trickle its way to my ears.
A voice that strums a strong, sumptuous bass which can transition from a thunderous boom to a lulled breeze.
Your journey documents an exciting tale: one who overcomes small obstacles to being bestowed many awards and lucky accidents. An antithesis of a prosaic existence.
It swifts through your vital streams, a passion seamed upon the center of your core. A living testament poised with your sublime potency.
To the vast sea you take soar, enveloped by the lights and the feverish roars.

Was l fool ? when l loved you ...
was l insane ? when l told you l'd die for you
was l blind ? to see your burdens that everybody complained about .
Do you think someday that l would ever forget about you ? When you meant the world to me
would you be sad ?if l ever went away
would you cry ? if someday l passed away
remember when you said that ''you will always be by my side '' well look at us now
at what we have become
l trusted you with my heart and look at what you have done . . .

Note : well this is still incomplete l still think it needs a little more but that's how far l have written it like a while ago .

You warm me up with just your smile. In fact, I think I blushed.
My face gave you a crooked grin; trying to hide the swollen and fatigued eyes.
Your voice is so calming. Makes me go back to the days the skies weren't red but blue.
I'm no longer suffering from the annoying chatter and cold hands around my neck. My tears don't try to asphyxiate me.
I no longer hunger for another human presence.
My chest feels heavier with my heart back in its proper place.
In my white mist forest, I no longer am lost. Your my blue butterfly, showing me the way.

MY halo has gone awry..
I think I like it.
The temptations enormous and
it's hard to fight, it seems
to have me trapped.

How can being bad feel so good?
Have my cake and eat it too,
I would if I could.
A cherry that's sinfully sweet,
An angel with a devilish demeanor,
what a treat.

I take pride in my stride
And flash a smile,
Let you think that you're in,
but little do you know,
(Only) Lord knows where I've been.

My has has gone awry,
I think I like it.
So it seems it's hard to deny it.

"Hmph..."

I don't know.
Where do I start?
Where do I begin?
It's crazy.
It's horrendous.
Is it the end?
Maybe so,
I don't know.
Let us begin.
I have no choice,
For I've no voice.
Am I a saint,
Or am I a sin?
I surrender.
You win.

You speak of love, yet you know it not.
Your naiveté deludes you
and stirs your ignorance
into a sea of desire;
for it is in that knowledge
that you so long for,
that you so taste
in the dew drop of your viridity
of your juvenescence
for that understanding.
You are credulous
and believe what you cannot yet comprehend.
You speak the words of love frivolously,
and you deny your ignorance
and persuade with your deceit
that you know love's gentleness,
like that of a butterfly's kiss.
You believe because there is affection
that there is also love.
You do not understand passion,
for affection does not propel you into love.
Affection does not create love,
but yet attraction and care.
Your mind is acute, and your perspective weak,
for you are young.
Love is not nailed upon affection,
but upon trust and loyalty,
devotion, and friendship,
forgiveness and sacrifice,
and determination and openness of character.
Though you think your “love” all of these,
it cannot be, for you do not yet understand
how these are erected for your strongholds,
and how these are burned down like Troy.
You have much to learn and grow.
Thrive laboriously for the knowledge,
and one day you too
will understand Love.

I will die on a bed that isn't familiar
on a night just before something
good would have finally happened to me.

I will hold nothing.
A hand to hold belongs to a friend
too preoccupied with surgeries and prescriptions.
His hand, mere minutes away, will close around
a beer mug or wineglass when he goes home
after the last patient leaves his office.

Even the bottle, emptied of Ambien tablets,
will slip from the sheets to nestle somewhere
I have never looked, a crevice beneath the bed.

The bottle’s cap will remain with its
declaration of 'child safe' face-up
on the dresser for nobody to decipher.
But, perhaps, it is something nobody ought to read
because even though I will die,
I will never want to fix my childish mistakes,
to surrender the comforts of drug and drink.

I think I will die on a day that is not a Saturday
because today is Saturday,
and too many drinks are had on nights like these
to sit alone and think of dying.

I will not have said or written anything
to another human being on my day of death.
My silence will be the only hint
of where and when I choose to expire.

To myself, I would have died very slowly.
To others, my death might be abrupt.

Work was very slow, so I took the time to write a poem for the victims and families of those tragedies out there. Not the greatest poem, but I am not the greatest poet. It's just a humanitarian effort. I'm usually pretty impartial to things that don't involve me, but I felt like writing it, so here it is. My poetry is usually all doom-and-gloom, a message of hope is very rare.

A Fire Brighter in the Rain

Today, you have been wrenched free
from the daily obscurity of just "they."
Even the strongest man in the world
sheds tears on national television.

Peace-loving, you were suddenly thrown
high into the immortal arms of heaven,
far above all the cold gray clouds,
where you wait in the warmth of eternity.

Although we are islands unto ourselves,
oblivious, uncaring, aloof, we can speak
earnestly to our neighbors and strangers
about you, thanks to you, today.

I have never known you but there is
a murmur, carried by the raindrops
that drench flags at half-staff,
insisting a dear one has been lost.

Forgive us our ignorance and pettiness,
for we need reminders like you to
appreciate those like you in our lives,
see clearly many like you go every day.

In the wake of your abrupt passing,
we have rekindled the weak flame
of our compassion and kindness.
In your eyes, we see all of humanity.

Oh, vacant minds with those curious orbs
Free thinking can lead you to your ending.
Don't worry, just listen to me
I decide what's best for you, just never think
Individualism is taboo and keeps away the green.
You're safer with me, do you not agree?
Keep our cycle going, stay with your strings.
Free thinking can lead you to your ending.

Something I came up for a picture I made on deviantArt. I think I named this Rendre a moi(?)